


John Watson is Not a Fuzzy Kitten

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BAMF John, Blood, Dark John Watson, Gen, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Were-Creatures, Werewolf John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg learns John's secret</p>
            </blockquote>





	John Watson is Not a Fuzzy Kitten

Greg Lestrade had seen a lot of things in his time on the force. Nothing, though, quite prepared him for rushing down an alley and finding John Watson crouched over Sherlock, covered in blood.

"Is the ambulance here?" asked John quietly, still turned away.

"Right behind me. Are you hurt?" Greg stepped cautiously closer, resisting the urge to draw his weapon.

"Oh, the blood isn't mine." John finally straightened and turned. Something glimmered in his eyes. "Suspect shot him."

Greg halted. "Where's the suspect now?"

John shifted. "Took off before I could get to him. More worried about Sherlock."

Greg looked at John. The paramedics came down the alley and John waved them at Sherlock. Greg knew when someone was lying; John Watson had not told him the truth. "Let me take you home."

John shrugged. "All right." He followed Greg back to the road.

"Did you get a look at this suspect?"

John's hand flexed. "No. Sorry."

Greg drove him back to Baker Street. "Get cleaned up and I'll take you to the hospital."

"Fine." John went up to his room for a change of clothes. Greg turned on the kettle and took a seat, looking around the familiar flat, feeling unsettled.

John stepped out a few minutes later and glanced at Greg. "Let's go."

Greg held his gaze. "I thought maybe we should talk first."

John stepped into the kitchen and came back with two mugs. "Sherlock will be fine. The wound was worse than it first appeared."

Greg took the mug and blew on it to cool it, watching John closely. There was still a shimmer of something in his eyes, but it had faded. Something about him was still off, still not quite the John he knew and considered a friend. "That was quite a bit of blood."

"He hit his head on the way down," said John.

"No. He didn't." Greg leaned forward and took a breath. "You've been lying to me all evening."

John smirked. A cold, mirthless, curve of lips that sent a spike of ice down the Inspector’s spine. His eyes narrowed and the gaze turned predatory, pinning him to his chair as John shifted forward.

"You think I harmed Sherlock." John's voice was a growl that brooked no argument.

Now it was Greg that cracked an honest smile. He leaned back, shaking free of the grip of his eyes. "No."

John blinked and the smirk became a frown. "No?"

"No. You would never harm Sherlock. Not like that." Greg looked at his nails a moment before meeting John's eyes again. "Though you _would_ seriously hurt anyone that shot him. Quite possibly kill them."

"Are you going to arrest me? Where's the body and the evidence?" John watched him closely.

Greg sipped his tea and stood, looking down at John. "I want you to be honest with me." The air was charged. John looked a bit like a cornered animal to Greg's eyes; the most dangerous sort. For the second time that night he considered drawing a weapon on John Watson.

John started to stand. Before Greg could step back or draw there was a roar and he was knocked aside like a doll, sprawling on his back and nearly hitting his head on the coffee table. A huge paw pinned him down and he looked up into eyes the color of steel. The creature’s muzzle dropped close to his face, all hot breath and sharp teeth. "Is this what you wanted?" it asked with John's voice.

"You're a werewolf," said Greg, staring.

"Do you want to guess what happened to the man that shot Sherlock?" John spoke almost casually, considering the circumstance.

"Well it's a bit clearer now. Are you going to kill me?" Greg tried to keep his voice calm.

"That depends on you." John lifted his paw and allowed Greg to get to his feet.

Watching him, Greg unholstered his weapon and set it behind them on the coffee table. John's fur was blonde, like his hair, shimmering to silver depending on how the light hit it. In this form he was taller than Greg, even hunched over. "I take it Sherlock doesn't know?" He asked.

"No. And he never will. I can control it. Most of the time." John turned away and in the blink of an eye he was back to the form he knew, clothes in place as he sat heavily in his chair and picked up his tea, staring into the mug.

Taking a deep breath, Greg took the other chair. "Well, someone needs to take care of Sherlock."

John looked up, something like hope in his eyes.

Greg gave a smile. "Next time though, try to refrain from killing the suspects."

Visibly relaxing, John sipped his tea. "If anyone finds him it'll look like a wild dog attack."

"All right. Come on, let's see how Sherlock is doing." Greg returned his gun to its holster, collected the mugs and put them in the sink, watching John put on his coat and knowing that he still trusted him.

**Author's Note:**

> Always indebted to flyingrotten for werejohn.
> 
> Willie and I inspired each other, she made [amazing art](http://merindab.tumblr.com/post/81623866141/willietheplaidjacket-greg-lestrade-had-seen-a).
> 
> So thanks to willietheplaidjacket for inspiration and loveanddeathandartandtaxes and type_40_consulting_detective for reading.
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
